


Quiet Morning

by PixelCube



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Connor, Caught in the Act, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Penis, Connor Finds One Of Hank’s Shirts, Connor Is Caught Masturbating, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Hank Joins Him, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm, Pet Names, Top Hank, playful banter, praising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29437275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelCube/pseuds/PixelCube
Summary: The shirt was a bad substitute for Hank. It smelled like him, sure, but it didn’t feel like him one bit. Yet Connor clung to the limp and cold shirt anyways. He knew it was a risk, but Hank was a heavy sleeper.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 95





	Quiet Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Finished this up just in time for Valentine’s Day <3 Enjoy.

The shirt was a bad substitute for Hank. It smelled like him, sure, but it didn’t feel like him one bit. There weren’t any firm muscles to cling to, no warmth radiating from his skin. Yet, Connor clung to the limp and cold shirt anyways. 

Soft, morning light drizzled over the deviants milky white, naked body. Connor laid on his left side, his left arm holding the stolen shirt close to his chest. His right leg jutted forward on the bed to allow his right hand better access to his puckered hole. 

Two of his fingers gently worked to fill his asshole, quiet, wet noises filling the room every time he did so. Connor’s neglected and erect member laid abandoned on the bed, leaving a small puddle of precum on the tan sheets. He breathlessly moaned into Hank’s shirt as his hips sensually rutted back into his fingers. Connor’s fist gripped tightly to the shirt, inhaling the musk he could smell.

He knew it was a risk, but Hank was a heavy sleeper.

Just as he was preparing to push in a third finger, the bedroom door clicked open. A hot flash of shame slapped Connor from his face downwards, but he didn’t move. He froze in place. His brown, now fearful, eyes blinked up at Hank in the doorway. His boyfriend’s hair was tousled and his eyes looked tired, surely from the nap he’d been taking on the couch. 

Connor somehow had woken him up.

“So, this is what I heard.”

Hank didn’t show one ounce of irritation or disappointment as he closed the door, and neared Connor on the bed. The fingers didn’t leave his hole, choosing to keep him filled and warm. The stolen shirt wasn’t even snatched away- the owner just smiled once he noticed it clutched in Connor’s hand. 

Hank’s hand reached out to sweep away that dreaded, single lock away from Connor’s warm eyes. 

“You look like an angel,” He whispered. 

With those softly spoken words alone, the deviant began to slowly open up his hole again. His body sunk into the bed under his side. Hank quietly chuckled as he watched. He stepped around the bed to get a better angle from behind. 

“It’s alright, keep going.” He quietly encouraged- his voice was choked full with affection and kindness. No judgment.

Connor silently nodded, pushing his two fingers in deep, deeper than before. He gasped into Hank’s shirt. He really should’ve been filling himself up with three fingers, but he didn’t want to become embarrassed in front of Hank, trying to push in something that didn’t fit. 

The mattress behind him sunk down. A warm, large hand settled on his hip. Connor’s nerves finally eased up, his asshole becoming less shy to his familiar fingers. 

“Hey. You have a bad habit of going silent when you’re flustered.”

Hank pressed up against his back as best he could. The arm working to fuck his entrance open unfortunately forced their bodies apart. 

“...I didn’t mean to wake you,” Connor’s gentle voice responded. 

The hand on his hip squeezed him lovingly; either as reassurance, or an urge to continue. Connor readily did, fingering his entrance at a quick pace. His hand rubbed the shirt he’d stolen between his fingers as he did so. He didn’t need to, seeing that Hank was right behind him, watching him. But he’d noticed the warm smile on his boyfriend’s face when he saw the shirt, so he continued to hold tight. 

Hank’s left arm propped up to rest his head on his hand. He had full view of Connor now. He’d easily come to recognize his freckled skin, his sloping spine and sides, yet he still craved to see him in all his glory. Connor was like a painting- something Hank wanted to touch, but knew he had no right even looking at. 

“I’m not mad. The second I heard those pretty moans, I was wide awake.”  
The deviant’s cheeks flushed a faint blue. He didn’t recall making noises loud enough to break through the closed door. 

The room became blanketed in a comfortable quietness, aside from Connor’s soft and frequent noises; tentative grunts, and his own hand lightly smacking against his asscheeks. He scooted upwards on the bed to rest his cheek on Hank’s bicep. He could feel the man’s eyes on his body watching every time his fingers pushed into his entrance, and every time his cock leaked more precum, adding to the puddle. 

The hand on his hip slid down to his asscheek. Hank’s thumb massaged a circle into his skin, where Connor’s fingers slowly came to a halt.

“Take a break. Let me help you out, sweetheart.”

Connor’s innocent eyes silently questioned him. Hank’s lips reassured him with a warm smile.

His fingers slowly left his hole with a wet pop, making him groan through closed lips. Those same wet fingers met his neglected cock, and began to stroke it.

“Good boy.” Was whispered in his ear as Hank’s middle finger filled the temporary emptiness in his asshole. 

Connor’s eyes unintentionally fluttered, his mouth uttered a breathless “oh”, while Hank never stopped or faltered his movements. He buried his face into the arm his head was resting on. His backside rutted up into Hank’s finger; Hank took the hint, another finger larger than Connor’s own sliding in. 

Connor’s slow stroking on his member had progressed to desperate and hungry jerk, racing to find his sweet, tempting release. His partner helped, Hank’s fingers steadily pushing in and out of his lubricated rear. His digits were warm, large, and Connor could feel them searching for a familiar bundle of electronic nerves, just barely out of reach. Hank grumbled, unsatisfied and impatient with his clumsy search. An unsteady, long moan made Connor’s toes curl as his body was tugged right up to Hank’s chest. His lover picked up the pace, desperately shoving thick fingers deep into his aching entrance.

To Hank’s relief, Connor abruptly gasped, the back of his head knocking into the man’s torso. His fist slammed up and down around his length. Whines and quiet pleas for “ _More_ ” and “ _Deeper, Hank_ ” escaped his plump, pink lips.

Hank eagerly complied, a third finger being adding to the warm, deep, wide-open entrance known as Connor’s synthetic asshole- that belonged all to Hank. 

He watched Connor slowly crumble apart in his grasp, sluggishly and feverishly seeking his own high. The perfectly combed-over hair Hank had once known was now a mess of curls and tangles. The professional and patient side of Connor he knew in public couldn’t compare to what Hank was witnessing now; a begging, writhing mess on his own bed, three thick fingers filling him and a fist pounding his cock to completion. 

“ _Hank!_ ” A sharp gasp interrupted his own thoughts. From Connor’s gorgeous face alone, he was on the peak of his climax. His hips jutted up into his fist, and Hank shoved his those three digits right back into him. 

“I’m here. I got you, sweetheart,” His lips mumbled into Connor’s neck, leaving soft kisses after each sentence. 

Hank eyed Connor’s groin as his member spurted thick ropes of semen across his stomach, and onto his stolen shirt. Hank knew for sure that he was damn lucky to have Connor getting his cum on one of his own shirts. 

“Oh, Hank...” Connor whimpered below him. He began panting, his body curling in on itself. The three fingers inside him were removed with tender care. Hank cleaned his hand on the cum shirt.

“Shh, good boy,” He hushed below Connor’s ear. The brunet shuddered in response, his face getting buried into Hank’s inner elbow, and hand bunching up the stolen shirt. 

Hank watched as Connor mentally and physically stepped down from his orgasm. The urge to pull him in close to share his natural warmth to the android was unbearable. Connor was tucked into his chest with unmistakable care, the bedsheets being pulled up to their shoulders directly after. Much to Hank’s relief, the brunet in his arms snuggled up to his back, still tucking his warm face into his inner elbow. He could feel every breath the Connor took in through the hand resting on his stomach. 

And they laid like that for who knows how long. Even Connor wasn’t keeping track with his internal timer; spending blissful, quiet, and warm moments like this was much more important. Neither of them considered getting up to clean their mess, or to attend to more productive manners as if this run-in never happened.

Connor’s tender, yet rugged voice spoke up. “...I wasn’t expecting this.” 

Hank huffed a laugh into the thick locks tucked under his chin. He smoothed his hand around Connor’s slim stomach.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were asking for it.” 

And he could feel the cheeky smile form into his arm- Hank had spent enough time around Connor to even visualize it in his mind without looking at him. The older man barked a laugh- much louder and more joyous than the first one- and smacked the hip just below his own.

“Cocksucker.”

Connor’s grin just widened, and Hank knew he’d slipped up. “I’d like to be.”

He smacked his partner’s hip one more time before draping that arm firmly around Connor’s relaxed, bare body.

“Shut up and go into your sleep, er, stasis mode-thingy.” 

Hank gruffly instructed. His eyes were shut now, blocking out the light attempting to stream in through the window behind them. Connor’s hand found the one over his chest, and held on to a bundle of fingers. 

“Alright, Hank. Entering sleep-stasis-mode-thingy.” 

“Shut the hell up,” Hank gingerly kissed Connor’s cheekbone, “I love you.”

The grey-haired, nearly asleep detective nearly laughed again as the deviant in his embrace wiggled closer into his chest. 

“I love you too, Hank.” 

Connor flipped on his sleep-stasis-mode-thingy, and Hank drifted into another light nap.


End file.
